William Shakespeare peered across the room. A sad-looking dark-haired girl sat at a table on her own. After scrutinising her arse for a few seconds, Shakespeare decided he should go over to see what was wrong.
"You all right?" he enquired.
"Ahh, ...

"Well of course you're losing," said Sophie Ellis-Bextor. "Why do you insist on wearing those clownish clothes even when you're doing sport?"
"There's nothing clownish about them," spat William Shakespeare, turning to pick up the volleyball once again.
"You've got no freedom ...

"Just a coffee please, Neil," said Sophie Ellis-Bextor.
Neil Codling from Suede placed the order in perfect French then smiled at Ellis-Bextor.
"You seem to speak the language very well," she said.
"Yes, I lived here for a year or two," said ...

Sophie Ellis-Bextor sipped her wine and admired her surroundings. If the food was as good as the ambience, this meal was going to be even better than that lost vocal she’d done for Murder on the Dancefloor.
At that moment, a shabby figure in large sunglasses shambled into view. The man bounced off a table and made towards her. It was Rick Witter from Shed 7.
“Fucking Bextor,” said Witter.
“It’s Ellis-Bextor, actually. How are you, Richard?”
“I’m fucking not bad at all, Bextor. Not bad at all. Had a bit of a run-in with some fucking shitbag this afternoon,...

William Shakespeare looked up from his book in order to take in the spectacular sea view before him. He inhaled deeply and focused on just how relaxed he was feeling. His body and mind felt refreshed and alive. He tried to capture the sensation such that he might draw on it again at a later date somehow.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a figure moving towards him across the golden sands, striding along as if he owned the fucking place. It was Rick Witter from Shed 7.
“All right, mate,” said Rick Witter.
Shakespeare looked up at him from his sun lounger, but didn’t...

“Well of course you’re losing,” said Sophie Ellis-Bextor. “Why do you insist on wearing those clownish clothes even when you’re doing sport?”
“There’s nothing clownish about them,” spat William Shakespeare, turning to pick up the volleyball once again.
“You’ve got no freedom of movement,” countered Ellis-Bextor. “Look at everyone else. Look what they’re wearing.”
Shakespeare glanced around him. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You just want to strip me of all my sexuality, that’s...

“Just a coffee please, Neil,” said Sophie Ellis-Bextor.
Neil Codling from Suede placed the order in perfect French then smiled at Ellis-Bextor.
“You seem to speak the language very well,” she said.
“Yes, I lived here for a year or two,” said Codling. “If there’s a better city on earth in which to recuperate from chronic fatigue syndrome, I don’t know it.”
“It’s quite breathtaking,” said Ellis-Bextor. “The history, the architecture – it’s all so romantic.”
“Many an afternoon I would while...